


The Doctor's Last Testament

by theprydonian_archivist



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-15
Updated: 2010-01-14
Packaged: 2018-07-15 00:36:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7198181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theprydonian_archivist/pseuds/theprydonian_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the end of his tenth incarnation, the Doctor writes his last testament and tries to explain his complicated relationship with the Master.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My first story in this genre--please be kind!
> 
> Note from Versaphile, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Prydonian](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Prydonian). Deciding that it needed to have a more long-term home, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact the e-mail address on [The Prydonian collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/theprydonian/profile).

  
The main thing that I want everyone to understand, what you really NEED to understand that it wasn't always this way...HE wasn't always this way...and so much of what happened wasn't his fault. It was a series of tragic mistakes, nothing more. It wasn't anyone's fault...or maybe it was all mine...I'm not sure any more, but his madness, the things he's done...I know he can't be forgiven, but at least maybe I can help you to understand why he did it. I have spent centuries trying to understand it--maybe I can now help you, my human friends, to understand it a bit better as well....

How do I even begin to explain my relationship with Koschei?

We met at school, he was an age mate of mine. Others found him strange from the beginning, but not me. I was drawn to him—drawn to his intelligence, drawn to his laughter, his smile...his eyes. We became fast friends and spent most of our free time together. He was missing home...I took it upon myself to make him feel better. It's what I have always tried to do—help others.

The other students shunned him for reasons I never understood, and I knew he was lonely. Even though I had many other friends, I found myself with him more often then not. Not that I minded—quite the opposite, in fact. I adored being with him. He was my best friend, and—one day when we went swimming together at a lake near the academy—we became more.

We had a rare day off and decided to go swimming in the lake. We were splashing around, diving, really enjoying ourselves. Then, quite suddenly, we both bobbed to the surface at the same time and faced each other. There was an odd silence between us, and then Koschei was pulling off his swimming trunks and laying them on the dock. 

With a laugh, he dove back under the water and out into the lake. 

I was perplexed by his behaviour, didn't quite understand why he had removed his trunks...but in my reckless youth, I didn't really care. I quickly followed suit and dove back into the water, chasing him.

I caught up with him, and we playfully wrestled in the water, laughing loudly and splashing one another until we both became so breathless, that we had to pause for a moment. Once again, there was the uncomfortable silence between us and my eyes darted around, afraid to meet his eyes—perhaps I was afraid of what I might see in them or what he might see in mine.

I became suddenly and painfully aware of my own nakedness...and then Koschei reached out and pulled me against his own lithe form. Neither one of us was hard, but we both jumped slightly as our groins made contact. I blushed a deep scarlet and looked down, embarrassed without even understanding why.

“Theta,” his voice was soft and teasing, “Don't hide from me...do you...ever...think about it? What it would be like...between us?”

Truth be told, I had thought about it—a lot. Alone in my bed at night, I would close my eyes and stroke myself to orgasm, and even though I tried to think about females, my thoughts always centred on Koschei—what he would feel like, what he would taste like...what it would feel like to have his hands on my sex, instead of my own...but I couldn't admit it—not even to Koschei. Instead, I shook my head and whispered a non-committal, “I don't know...”

He laughed then—loudly--and it was the most glorious sound.

 

I didn't know what I was doing, really. But Koschei led me forward. He seemed to know exactly what he was doing—which was odd, since I knew he'd never had a boyfriend. He leaned up and kissed me passionately, our tongues finding one another and exploring each other's mouths with increasing lust.

Breaking the kiss, he breathed, “Hold me up...” hoarsely into my ear, and lifted himself. In the water, he was light and easy to hold around the waist. I rested my hands on his arse, and he wrapped long, athletic legs around my waist and long thin around around my neck.

I held him close and we kissed again, breathless and losing ourselves in one another. He pulled me backwards towards the dock and once his back was pressed against it, he reached down and took me in hand once more. I gasped at the feeling as he led me towards his entrance. I stopped short and stared at him, unsure.

“Please...” he whispered.

“we shouldn't...” I offered weakly, but we both knew I didn't mean it. He kissed me once more and I was lost to him—would have done anything he had asked me to at that moment. 

Since I thought us both inexperienced virgins, I thought it would be difficult to make love to him, especially in our positions, but it was amazingly easy. Using concentrated energy, he opened himself to me and I breeched him easily, gasping at the sudden heat and tightness that surrounded me. I cried out loudly at the contact, but Koschei made little sound. He simply whimpered and arched back, leaning back against the dock posts for support and pushing back against me, encouraging me to slip further and further inside of him, until I was filling him completely.

“Oh gods!” I cried out, “Koschei!”

Instinct took over at that point and I began to thrust blindly. I pushed upwards with my hips desperately, no style or rhythm to my movements, just carnal need. Around us the water splashed erratically in time with my inelegant thrusts. Koschei moved one arm back to hold the dock post and lift himself more easily, and his other hand gripped my left shoulder almost painfully as he tried to meet each of thrusts with his own.

With each thrust I groaned and cried out, while he remained largely silent. I found his silence erotic, it turned me on and I shoved ever harder, seeking my release. I stared at him with mad eyes, unable to believe that this was happening between us, but Koschei kept his eyes resolutely closed, biting a lip had enough to make it bleed as he seemed lost in his own world of lust.

I turned slightly and he fell away from the dock and fell back completely into the water, his torso floating on the top, his back to the water and his face glowing in the sun as I continued to love him physically. His legs still wrapped around my waist, I thought, vaguely, that he must have superior upper body strength to keep himself afloat like that. He was artful in his lovemaking, it was almost like a dance.

“Theta...” he whimpered softly and came. I looked down to see his pleasure floating on the surface of the water and that was all it took. I grabbed him up and out of the water and cradled him close, shoved his back against the dock once more and drove home a final time, coming deep inside of his willing body.

We stayed like hat for a long time—his body wrapped around me and me holding him up in the water, as we both focused on slowing our breathing and regaining our control. When, at last, I pulled away, he seemed reluctant to let me go, mewing his displeasure at having to dismount.

“We should get back...” I said clumsily.

He regarded me for a moment, “Do you regret it?” he asked in a small voice.

“No!” I replied a little bit too quickly, “Of course not.”

And I didn't regret what we had done together—what I regretted was the way we had done it, the way I had lost control. 

“Are you sure?” he pressed gently. He was always so gentle back then.

“Yes, I'm sure.” I replied and kissed him on the lips.

He smiled and we held hands walking back to the TARDIS.

But looking back, I don't think he ever really believed me.

After that glorious afternoon, we were lovers as well as best friends. We didn't hide it, and no one seemed particularly bothered by our union. We had our own rooms in the dormitory, and each night, after lights out, Koschei would arrive in my room, pad silently across the floor and strip, before straddling my body, and making love.

It was wonderful. We were both so young and so full of life and promise. Each night, we would explore one another's bodies, take each other to height of pleasure, and then lay entangled in one another's sweaty, exhausted limbs, murmuring words of love to one another until we both fell asleep.

Koschei began to change when we had been lovers for about a standard year. He had always been...eccentric, for lack of a better word. He had always had odd quirks...but I had odd ones too, and so I found this trait endearing rather then annoying. But sometime during his ninetieth year, he began to change. He grew more and more aloof, even from me. He would go days without coming to see me, which was odd since we had always been so inseparable. And even when he was with me, he would be unusually quiet and withdrawn. He complained of headaches constantly, and grew irritated and angry at the slightest provocation. 

I should have noticed. Maybe I did, but didn't wish to admit it to myself. I mean, who wants to admit that their best friend, their brother-in-arms—their lover—is mad? The others had whispered about him for years. How he wasn't right in the head, but I never listened. I loved him. I wanted to believe that my love for him could somehow be enough and heal him...so—yes--I did see that he wasn't well, but I never thought it would get as bad as it did.

 

I didn't know what to do. I was upset by his behaviour, but I thought he was just growing tired of me, wanting to break up with me. I never suspected that it was anything more then that. If only I had known! My gods...I would have done so many things differently if I had only known...

Do I feel guilt over what happened? Of course I do. Do I wish things had been different? With every fibre of my existence. Do I think I could have changed things, even if I had tried? No, I do not...I believe it was always our destiny to end exactly as we did. The heartbreak of Koschei and I was a micro chasm of the heartbreak that was engulf our entire planet and way of life. In a way, what we went through was just a smaller version of what the entire race of Time Lords would go through.

But, for a time at least, Koschei and I were happy. We were together, we were young and we were in love...and even if I had known how it would all end, I still would have spent those nights of beautiful passion with him, because when Koschei was mine, he was incredible, and I would gladly go through what we endured again if I could only hold him in my arms once more. What does that say about me? I am not sure...but it is the truth.

TBC...


	2. Chapter 2

In our twentieth year, Koschei and I got a small apartment together near the academy. We were happy in that innocent, love-can-conquer-anything kind of way. When I look back now, I realise how niave we were; how stupid—but at the time the universe was our oyster. We would talk all the time about all the wonderful, exciting things we would do when we finally graduated and could leave the planet to enjoy the universe. Of course, our plans had to be secret—Time Lords were not supposs to get involved, to meddle—but we were so sure that we could make the universe a better place through our enlightened action, it seemed a waste not to use our gifts to help others...so we planned, in secret, a life far away from Galifrey; a life spent together, changing the universe for the better by day, making love all night—that was our future—we were so sure of it....we were so wrong.

The first time he ever mentioned the drums to me, we were in bed together, having just finished making love. We were sweaty, sated, exhausted, Koschei resting his head against me chest. I was hovering on that edge between awake and asleep when suddenly, he stirred slightly against my chest, “Can I ask you something?” he asked quietly.

My eyes fluttered open, “Sure...anything...” I replied easily.

“Do you ever...hear things...in your head?”

Perplexed, I sat up slightly, “What do you mean?”

Koschei looked up from my chest into my eyes. I was alarmed by the the look on his face—a look of sadness mixed with confusion. He bit his bottom lip distractedly and looked away, “I mean...do you ever hear noises in your head?”

I had no clue why he would ask such a thing, “No. Do you?”

I never expected him to say yes...

He told me they sounded liked drums beating.

“...far away...like in the distance. But sometimes...when I'm angry or stressed, they get...louder.”

“How often do you hear it?” I pressed.

Koschei hesitated before answering me. I could tell this was very hard for him to speak about, “All the time.” he admitted at last.

“When did it...start?”

“It's always been there, I think—as long as I can remember anyway. But it's just...it's getting louder.”

He swallowed audibly and looked up into my eyes once more. 

“Theta...I'm scared.”

I was scared too, truth be told—but I just held him close, kissed him and said the only thing I could think of: “It will be alright...I'm here with you—we'll figure it out together.”

But I was wrong.

Koschei grew worse, not better—and none of the physicians seemed to know how to help him. They couldn't understand the drums any more then we could—they were at a loss. They did countless tests and even admitted him to hospital for two weeks at one point to observe and run further tests—but it all came to nothing. They could find nothing wrong with him physically and so they made the only diagnosis that they could—and the most hopeless one—they us that Koschei was mentally ill.

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“It means he will, in all likelihood grow worse, not better.” we will do what we can to make him comfortable, but there is little we can do to fix his diseased mind.”

I was incredulous. They seemed to write him off so easily; didn't seem to care about him or what he was going through. If they couldn't cure it, they didn't want to know about it. They shoved bottles of pills into my hands and bid us good day.

That night, in bed, Koschei was desperate. Frightened of his uncertain future, he seemed desperate to claim the present. Our sex bordered on violence as he took me and begged me to take him in return, “make me feel it, Theta!” he cried against my overheated skin, “Hurt me! Make me feel you forever.”

I knew he was afraid I'd leave him, but at that point I had no intention of doing so. I was committed to helping him get well and I decided that even if the doctors had given up on him—I never would.

That's where my name originally came from. It was a loving nickname given to me by my 'patient'--Koschei. One day, when he was lost in the pain of the drums, I sat with him, holding his hand, kissing him gently, making sure he took his pills. He smiled at me and said, “You're like the doctor...my doctor...” he whispered lovingly. 

Years later, when he was my enemy and my world was lost, I would retain that name in honour of what we had once shared.

 

I was angry, confused, but most of all, sad...just sad. I didn't understand what was happening to him any more. I couldn't help him in any real way, and I felt helpless in the face of his illness. Dealing with him and his sickness exhausted me. I went around on auto pilot, just existing and not really living any more. I went to my classes, I did my exams, then I went back to the tiny apartment and tried to care for Koschei. That was my life. I didn't go out, I didn't see friends. I lost all track of time and what was going on beyond my own front door. My world, my entire life, shrank to the size of Koschei and his illness. Looking back, I sopposs I was numb, shell shocked. It was like a bad dream that I couldn't wake up from—but I was determined to care for Koschei, to help him. After all, he had no one else, and I loved him so much...

The sedatives helped him sleep at least, and I would arise early in the morning to attend classes, and leave him still resting. He looked so peaceful as he slept. It was almost as if he wasn't ill...and I would curse his illness then, curse the drums for taking him away from me...my beautiful Koschei....I would kiss him, run my fingers through his hair and tell him I loved him, then force myself to leave him there and go to class....

I never knew what I would find when I came home in the late afternoons. Sometimes—most times—Koschei would be sleeping or sitting on the lounge chair in the living room. If he was awake, I'd smile and we'd sit and talk. I'd fix us something to eat...if he had the strength, we'd make love, though his heart was no longer in it and it was rather like making love to a shell and not a being. I would climax, but the pleasure would be hollow...Koschei rarely orgasmed; the drugs he took to control the sound of the drums robbed him of any real sexual appetite and as a result, robbed us both of any real intimacy.

Then there were times when I came home to find him in a rage, smashing things, screaming, crying until he had no tears left. These days were terrifying...he would slam his head against walls and even the hard floor to try and silence the drum beat. He would tear his own hair out in chunks...he would slam his fists against his own face and beg the gods to make it stop...when he was like that, I would despair of what to do. I was loathe to call the physicians as I did not want them to lock him up...I would try to speak calmly, softly to him. I would beg him to calm down...I would attempt to hold him—or hold him down. I would cry because I didn't recognise him any more and I was frightened of him and I didn't know how to help him. And these rages could go on for hours....

Eventually, he would collapse, exhausted in my arms and sleep. Once he was asleep, I would tidy the apartment as best I could, clean up the mess he had made, tend to any bruises, cuts or injuries he had given himself...then I would curl beside him on our bed, often not even having the strength left to shed my robes, and sob until I fell asleep.

That was my life—and it went on like that for a very long time...


	3. Chapter 3

Our lives were in a holding pattern. Neither of us could move forward but neither were we happy to stay where we were. Koschei and I had had so many plans, so many dreams—it seemed so unfair that they would never come to be. I fell into a deep depression, unable to cope with what had happened to him—and what had happened to us.

 

Because he had completed his studies before me, Koschei was—for all intensive purposes—a Time Lord. He was too ill to go anywhere or do much with his training and that galled him. He grew angry, bitter. I couldn't blame him, but it grew ever harder to be around him as he grew more hateful and angry. It was so different from the easy-going, carefree spirit I had fallen in love with...he would fly into a rage at the slightest provocation and often—to often—his anger was directed at me—perhaps because he had no where else to direct it.

I admit that there were times when I entertained the possibility of leaving him. Others certainly encouraged me to do so. But his family wanted nothing to do with him now that he was sick, and he had no one to care for him—I had to stay. And it made me feel resentful and trapped. The love we had once felt for one another began to evaporate, leaving only malice in its wake. 

There was one thing that bothered me above all else: I had often read Koschei's mind, especially in the early days of our relationship, but I had never heard or seen the drums in his mind—he had hid them from me—and that angered me more then it should have.

I am not proud of how I often acted over it. Once I screamed at him, “I thought I knew you! You lied to me! You shielded my mind from the drums! You acted like you were normal! Why didn't you tell me?”

“Would you have had a relationship with me if you had known?” he spat back.

I had no answer for him.

“Yeah, well...that's why I didn't tell you!” he snarled.

“So you let me fall in love with you knowing there was something wrong with you?” I asked, incredulous.

“YES!” he shouted back, “Yes, I did—and I won't apologise for it! I didn't know how bad it would get—I thought I could control it! And even if I couldn't...you were all I had! You're STILL all I have! Was I suppose to give you up to? Then I'd be completely alone!”

He began to cry then, and it took the anger out of the argument. I felt wretched for what I had said, for feeling the way that I did about it all. I was so selfish...worrying about my own pain when Koschei's was so much worse.

“Don't you see? You're all I ever had!” he sobbed and I took him in my arms and held him and kissed his hair and told him how sorry I was.

And that's how it was between us—I would go months playing the part of the martyr to perfection, giving and giving to Koschei until I could stand it no longer—then I would pick a fight with him and no matter what it started out being about, it always led to an almighty row about his illness and it always ended with him and I both in tears. 

There was so much frustration on both of our parts. We both wanted to be logical—we both wanted to use our superior intelligence to defeat this illness, but we couldn't and that made us both so very angry.

We never spoke about it out loud, but we both wondered what would happen when Koschei regenerated—would the drums still be there? Would he be cured—or would it be worse? Sometimes, when I read his mind without him knowing it, I could see that Koschei wished for death; that he longed to regenerate because he believed that it might make him better. In that way, he was suicidal. He rarely ate, took terrible care of himself, and while he didn't have the 'bravery' the kill himself, he would often put himself in harm's way on purpose, hoping it might lead to death.

That was one of the darkest chapters of our lives together. He would beg me to kill him, to let him regenerate, but I simply could not do it. I loved him too much—I could not cause him physical pain, and I wasn't convinced in the slightest that a new body would change anything. In the end, of course, I was proven right—regenerating, if anything, made his illness worse until he finally regenerated into Harold Saxon...and we all know what came after that...but at the time, there was some suggestion, even by the Time Lords themselves, that regeneration might sure him. They were lying to us, of course—but we didn't know that then.

When Koschei was in his twenty-third year, he finally succeeded in killing his body in a laboratory accident. He regenerated, but to no avail—the drums were still there and they were worse then ever.

Completed defeated by this, he retreated inside himself in a way that broke my hearts. He would go days without speaking. He would spend hours staring slightly up at the sky, and I knew he was thinking about all the dreams we had together—of going to the stars together; dreams that would never, ever come true.

We stopped being intimate with one another.I longed for him, missed him so much that I physically ached—but he was always so distant, there never seemed a time when it would have been right to approach him for sex. Where we had once been unable to keep our hands of one another, we rarely even slept in the same bed any more. I chose the lounge room and gave him the bed—and Koschei never objected to the new arrangement, solidifying my belief that he wanted it that way—a part of me knew, even then, that I had lost Koschei forever. We continued to call ourselves a couple, but we had ceased to be anything more then room mates—or a 'doctor' and his 'patient'.

The hardest part of loving someone who is mentally ill, is the immense loneliness; the sense of isolation. No one understood what Koschei was going through, and no one understood what I was going through by proxy. The other students avoided us like a plague. Perhaps that is why I grew so close to Uudon, an age mate of mine who lived in the next set of apartments..

I am not proud of what I did next, but nor am I really ashamed. I did what any being in my position would have done, I believe—even if it was wrong in every way. was so lonely. It had been almost a year since Koschei and I had made love and I was desperate for the touch of another. Uudon was just...there. so....we made love. It just happened and once it happened, it kept happening...it felt good, and I hadn't felt anything good in so long that I longed for it and needed it. It was my escape from daily life. Those few hours spent in Uudon's bed were my escape from the pain of Koschei—an escape from him entirely. I lost myself in the sex, in the physical pleasure of it. It was nothing compared to Koschei. I loved Uudon, but only as a friend, a companion—not as a lover. The sex was about desperation, sadness, friendship and loneliness—it was never about love. Uudon would never have asked me to choose—he knew my heart belonged to Koschei. He knew our sex was nothing more than a substitute and he accepted it.

Not that any of that mattered to Koschei. He knew almost immediately that I had been with someone else—and it was the catalyst for his final transformation into someone I didn't recognise at all any more.

I came home one afternoon to find him curled upon the bed. 

“Koschei....” I whispered, unsure if he was awake or asleep. He opened his eyes and just glared at me. There was so anger—such hatred—in his eyes that I was momentarily frozen in place, “What's wrong?”

“How's Uudon?” he hissed, his voice a hoarse whisper.

I gasped and slid to my knees beside him on the bed. There was no point in denying it—Koschei would be able to tell if I was lying anyway, “Koschei...I'm sorry. I am so sorry, but let me explain...”

He sat up bolt right in the bed, and shook my hand away, “Don't touch me! I don't need your fucking explanations, you coward! Tell me, is he better then me—in bed?”

I closed my eyes against the tears that threatened to spill out on to my cheeks, “No.” I replied honestly, “Please...”

“How could you do this to me?” he went on in cold fury, getting up and pacing the room like a panther, “How could you betray me like this?”

I had no real answer besides, “I was just...I was so lonely, Koschei...it's been...almost a year. I was lonely and Uudon is a friend and he...”

“...fucked you—yes I know.” he finished for me.

I sighed heavily, “I was going to say that he felt sorry for me and offered...to take some of the pain away, that's all—that's all it was! He knows how much I love you. He knows you always come first. He's alone too—he just offered to take some of my pain away...”

Koschei laughed angrily, “YOUR pain? I'm the one who's sick! I'm the one who spends hours unable to think straight because of the pounding in my brain! What pain of yours? You have no pain! You don't even know what pain is!”

“That's NOT true!” I roared, suddenly angry—didn't he know how much I had suffered? Did he really think was all about him and that my feelings didn't matter at all?

“Do you know what it's like living here with you? Dealing with you? With your—insanity? I've lost all of my friends because of you! I may not ever graduate because of you! I sit here all day every day caring for you, listening to you, feeling sorry for you—what about ME? What about my life? Did it ever occur to you that maybe—just maybe—I want more from my life then to be your nursemaid?”

The room fell deathly silent as the impact of my words were felt by both Koschei and myself. I couldn't believe what had said—until that very moment, I had not even realised that I felt that way; that I harboured that much anger and resentment towards him. He seemed shocked as well. Shocked and hurt. He had no come back, no reply, just a hurt expression that nearly broke my heart. 

Things were never the same after that...

TBC...


	4. Chapter 4

Things went downhill pretty quickly after that. Koschei seemed to give in to his illness, incapable of fighting the drums any longer. 

One day, while I argued with him to take his medication, he turned to me sadly, “What's the point? I know what I am.”

“And what's that?” asked in anguish.

“Crazy.” he replied simply, “No one and nothing can help me.”

 

He started to drink heavily—and it wasn't the happy, fun kind of drinking either—it was hard core drink-until-you-pass-out kind of drinking. He did it to silence the drums, if only for a little while—and watching him destroy himself with drink was just another soul destroying spectator sport for me. I would hide his bottles, pour the liquor down the drain, beg him to stop—all to no avail. As you are, I am sure aware, you can only help someone who wants to stop...Koschei didn't want to stop.

I would help him to bed most nights, and one night as I helped him undress, he pulled me close and attempted to kiss me. He stunk of what humans refer to as alcohol, and we hadn't been intimate in over a year, so I shrank away in disgust. Koschei looked crest fallen, “You used to like it when I kissed you...” he slurred, “We used to be...so different...”

“Lots of things used to be different...” I replied coldly and put him to bed.

Koschei's illness began to affect my own future. I was offered an internship but turned it down because it meant moving to another city and I knew I couldn't leave him. When Koschei found out, he was livid and encouraged me to take it.

“And who will care for you?” I asked.

“I can take care of myself,” he offered weakly and I actually laughed in his face.

“You cannot be serious! I give you a week before you'd choke to death on your own vomit—or worse.”

There was a long silence...and then, “Leave me, Theta...I can offer you nothing now. The promises we made to one another—they were made in a different time, another life time...when we had dreams and hopes and....you don't owe me anything just because you were once my lover.”

I stared at him in shock, “How can you say that? I love you...”

“No, you don't.” Koschei dismissed me—and there was, perhaps, more truth in his statement then I cared to admit, “I'm just an obligation to you now.”

I shook my head, “You will get well!” I replied forcefully.

“Stop!” Koschei cut me off violently, “Just...stop. Take the internship, Theta...please? For me? For...what we once were?”

I began to cry then—it seemed that all I did in those days was cry, rage and stare into space--”I can't...I can't leave you...”

We embraced then and he held me as much as I held him. We were numb, we were devastated and we were entirely and completely alone.

I didn't take the internship—and Koschei never forgave me for it.

 

I was in class one day when Rani came up to me, her face as white as a ghost,”You better go home.” was all she said and I took off running towards my apartment.

By the time I got there the apartment was on fire and Koschei was inside. I screamed and pounded on the door, “Kosch, please! Come out! Come out of there!”

He shouted at me over the flames, “This is my masterpiece, Theta—can't you see? A world of ash!”

I didn't even recognise his voice any more—it was maniacal. 

“Please don't do this...” I begged, but he only laughed.

“They'll lock you up for this!” I sobbed at him, “They'll take you away! They'll say you're mad!”

Calmly, Koschei opened the door and stared at me impassively—flames whipping all around behind him, “I am mad, Theta—we both know it. Why not say it out loud?”

“NO!” I shook my head emphatically and grabbed him, dragging him out of the apartment and to the relative safety of the street outside, “No...I won't say it. I can't...you can get well! You...have to get well!”

The adrenaline began to drain away and I fell to my knees before him, exhausted and panting, breathless, “All the things we were going to do, Koschei—see the stars, travel the universe! You have to get well...you just have to!”

I knew I sounded like a spoilt child, demanding that he get better...I knew how ridiculous I sounded, but I didn't know how else to deal with it all. To face the inevitable –that he would never get well--was unthinkable for me...but even as I knelt there before him, Koschei merely smiled a terribly sad smile, stroked my cheek, and said ever so softly, “My Theta...for you hope always springs eternal, doesn't it?”

And I knew—I knew it then—that Koschei was gone forever.

 

Over the years since, whenever I have encountered Koschei—or the Master as he is now known—my main emotion regarding him was immense sadness. Yes, there was anger, outrage at what he was doing, bitterness at what he had allowed our relationship to become—many,many emotions....but sadness most of all. Why, you might ask? Because it is immensely sad to watch someone you love decline into mental illness. It is sad and pathetic to watch them lose themselves inside an insidious illness that they cannot control. When I would watch him strut around, declaring, “I am the Master and you will obey me!” or when he would dance around on the Valiant, singing Earth op songs, or when he was eating human beings in the wastelands of London...I was disgusted and repulsed...but most of all, sad. He could have been so wonderful...if his mind hadn't burned..if he hadn't been so damaged. To know now that his illness was caused by the hands of the very people who were sopposs to be looking after us as children? Well...that fills me with nothing but rage.

He declined to the point of not leaving his apartment for days at a time. I would often find him curled up on his be, holding his head, sobbing in pain, and begging for the noise in his head to stop. It was heart breaking...

Uudon used to beg me not to move out, to get away: “Let the physicians care for him, Theta! You can't help him! All it does is hurt you.”

“I won't leave him all alone. I can't do that to him.”

Uudon and I had stopped sleeping together—too much bad karma, we decided. He was my closest friend during that most difficult time, and instrumental in convincing me to finally leave Gallifrey.

You see, the first time I left—when I stole that TARDIS—it was to find a cure for Koschei. Later, the Time Lords would say I left to pursue my own dreams and didn't care about Koschei or anyone else—and Koschei would believe that, causing us to become enemies...but it wasn't true. I left Gallifrey because Uudon was convinced there was a way to cure Koschei. He had been doing research—we both had—and he had heard of a 'miracle worker' on another planet, in another time...his name is not important—it turned out to be a wild goose chase. The being was no healer, just a good man who had followers, and the followers, over the centuries had made up stories about him...meeting him was fruitless because he couldn't help me. 

I returned to Gallifrey in secret, hoping to see Koschei. I was granted my wish—it was Koschei I saw, but how changed! I barely recognised him physically. He had regenerated, and while the essence was the same, the damage was even worse. He had learnt to control some of the drumming in his head, but such concentrated energy, such constant control had driven him even madder. 

He was surprised to see me—convinced as he was that I had abandoned him--and he was also quite angry. Still, he was lonely—as lonely as I was, if not more. We ended up in bed, the first time we had made love in over two years—and yet it was just as good as I had always remembered it. No one knew my body like he did, no one knew my mind and my needs so very well......my memories of that night are hazy, gorgeous memories. Memories of my mouth ghosting over his desperate white skin, his body writhing underneath me, his breathless cries of 'more' and 'please' and 'Theta!' as I tried to explain to him that I had only left to try and find a cure for him...that I had always intended to return, to see him again. He was completely mad and beyond help, but there was still a vulnerability about him, a kindness at his hearts—as we caressed and kissed and held and got to know one another's bodies all over again, I allowed myself to believe that there was a chance for us, a possible future...I was wrong, of course. 

“I love you, Koschei” I whimpered over and over again throughout our desperate lovemaking. That night at least, he believed me, and we clung to each other like terrified children awaiting the uncertain dawn....

“I love you too, Theta...” he whimpered as I entered him, taking myself deep inside, coming with a choked sob...I believe he did love me then, even if our love was no longer enough...

I was found, put on trial...we all know what happened after that.

 

So many memories after that.....over the years we kept finding one another, kept seeking one another out... repulsed and disgusted by him, yet still desperate for his touch,....

So many memories...my hands down his pants and his down mine on some nameless planet in some forgotten time, leaning against the Tardis door as we coupled like that, afraid of and excited by the notion of being caught by my companion or some passer-by... sweating and gasping and crying out as he stroked each other ruthlessly, unable to do anything more then that—the thought of kissing him or holding him repulsive to me—pulling apart as soon as we climaxed, desperate for breath and for control, walking away without even saying a word of goodbye.....

Koschei...the Master now...desperate and lonely and madder then ever, his hair a shocking spray of white, dressed in black and red,...the two of us leaning against an abandoned building in the wastelands of London, my back to the building wall as he closed in on me....no words as he began to press his erection against me...I gasped in shock, my own body responding as I grew hard...we were fully clothed as he humped my leg like a wild beast. I stood, rigid with disgust and lust in equal parts as he rubbed himself against my thigh, desperate to get off, to come. I refused to touch him at first—could smell the repulsive smell of human flesh on his breath as he whimpered and gasped and groaned, “Theta...I knew you'd come...” hoarsely and came, come staining the front of his jeans and he pitched forward and slumped against me. I cautiously laid a hand across his back then to support him, to hold him up....we said nothing....then he bent to take me in his mouth. I did nothing to top him...my eyes filled with tears as I realised that we were HERE again—in this horrible place between love and hate, sexual pleasure and debauchery...why did we always end up HERE? I stared straight ahead and fucked his mouth ruthlessly. I was angry and confused...so confused...I came quickly...it had been so long. He swallowed and cooed, closing his eyes and savouring the taste. There, on his knees, he looked like a common whore and I told him so. His eyes snapped open and he looked at me with pure hatred....

 

On the Valiant...we knelt facing one another on the bed. Naked and aroused, the Master whimpered, seemingly vulnerable, letting his eyes flutter closed as he closed the distance between us, our twin erections brushing against one another in the process. The heat, the desire was electric and I could focus no longer on anything but an intense need for him, for closeness, for pleasure.

His mouth brushed against mine and his whines, his whimpers of need, became constant. We were barely touching, but the sexual pleasure was intoxicating, I gasped and moaned, arching forward, seeking more contact. His hands skimmed lightly over my chest, my back, his mouth ghosted against mine, then pulled away—always pulling away just when I needed it most. 

With a gasp I came as his hard cock brushed against mine,spilling over his dick below mine, covering it in my sticky essence. That tipped him over the edge and he cried out, almost like a wounded animal. I opened my eyes in time to see him staring at me, his eyes glazed with sexual ecstasy as he came endlessly, his come splattering my belly, his body writhing and shaking in the aftermath, his mouth hanging open. Watching him orgasm was the most beautiful thing I had witnessed in years and tears filled my eyes. We had barely touched, and yet we could bring ourselves to orgasm just by being near one another—the thought was amazing and exciting. 

Below us, on the bed covers lay the evidence of our desire, and as we both knelt there, exhausted and breathing erratically, he reached down and scooped some of the fluid into his hand, tasting it on his fingers. His act caused me to moan in appreciation—so dirty, so very him...

“I can taste us both...” he whispered in a hoarse voice and I groaned again, closed the distance in an instant and kissed him hard and long, thrusting my tongue into his willing, hot mouth, tasting us, tasting him.

I loved him so much at that moment, that I am afraid to admit, I would have sacrificed anyone for him, sacrificed anything if he could just be well again.

He fell back on the bed, me atop him and we kissed endlessly, desperately, as if trying to make up for lost time.

I vaguely was aware of the fact that I was sobbing like a child against his overheated skin, barely aware of my own ramblings as I moaned, “Why? Why can't you just get better...all I want is for you to get well, Oh gods, Koschei...please......I love you...loveyouloveyouloveyou...”

“I know...” was all he replied and gave himself to me entirely.

I was breathless, hard again, wanting to make love, to enter him...he spread his legs, spoke nothing but let me have him...without thought, I crawled atop him like a beast wanting to mate, slid inside, crying out in anguish as I gave in—again.

I assaulted him with my body—with my hands, my mouth, my sex...He wrapped his legs around my waist and just let me have him in every way. His eyes were closed—it was almost as if he could not look at me—but he arched and writhed and seemed to be enjoying every moment as much as I was. We were covered in sweat and tears and come and it was so wonderful, so much like it had once been...

I slowed, pulled back, looked down at him, “Open your eyes, please...” I whimpered and he did, staring up at me with those soulful eyes that held so much pain, “I love you...please...please let me help you...let me save you...it can be like this all the time...”

I continued to pump into him, slowly, almost gently, wanting the sex and this moment to last forever., 

“You can't help me, Theta...” he whispered, broken, “No one can....”

I cried out then, pulled him close gathered him up in my arms, refusing to hear the truth of his words, “NO! I can save you, I can help you...pleasepleaseplease...”

 

These sexual encounters left me feeling more lonely then I would have felt without them. It was a parody of what we had once shared together and it made me feel...desolate inside. I guess I was holding on to the hope that I could reach him, help him somehow—even as the years turned to decades and the decades turned to centuries, I couldn't let go of him. My first love—in so many ways, my only love—I knew in my heart that my efforts to save him were hopeless, but can you blame me for trying? I know so many of you didn't understand when I offered to care for him at the end of the year that never was-- know so many of you were horrified when I held him in my arms and cried as he lay dying on the Valiant...perhaps now, now that you know the whole story—you can understand why I cried, why I had to try to save him...it wasn't, in the end, his fault. He wasn't evil so much as he was mad—he could have been so beautiful...so wonderful...my Koschei—once so full of light, then lost to the darkness.


End file.
